Toy Soldier Painting Exhibit Opens at The Union League Club

In an age of cross-marketing—where every Tickle-Me-Elmo, Malibu Barbie, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle has a corresponding TV show, board game, and accessories line—it’s hard to remember a time when a child’s plaything was just a thing to play with. In an exhibit titled “Toy Soldiers: Paintings by Carlota Atlee” at the Union League Club of New York, artist Carlota Atlee aims to remember a simpler time of children’s recreation with her series of paintings on toy soldiers.

Inspired by the Peter H. Werner Collection of military figurines, also at the Union League Club of New York, the exhibit is open through July 30.

Toy soldiers have quite the storied history—around since ancient Egypt, they became immensely popular in the 18th century during the military reign of Prussia’s Frederick the Great. For centuries, strategists used them during wartime to plan battle tactics. But most of all, they were a staple in the life of generations’ worth of children. “Toy soldiers were once a mainstay of any child’s toy collection,” Atlee said. “They hold a special place in history, the history of toys, and the personal history of the owners.”

Toy soldiers certainly show, as Atlee said, an insight into the personal history of their owners. H. G. Wells was a fan and wrote about them in his 1913 book, Little Wars. In Wars, he outlined rules for war games with the soldiers—ever the pacifist, he believed that playing with toy soldiers could be a therapeutic experience and prevent military conflict. Game of Thrones author George R.R. Martin also has a collection of toy knights and castles (although the Red Wedding in Storm of Swords suggests they did not have a therapeutic effect as Wells had hoped), and actor Douglas Fairbanks Jr. once amassed more than 3,000 toy soldiers. The largest collection most likely belonged to extravagant multi-millionaire Malcolm Forbes, who by the time he died had more than 90,000 figures.

Atlee recalled a story when an older gentleman pulled her aside to talk about her work. “[He] quietly told me about his own collection as if it were a state secret . . . he even had pictures on his cell phone,” she said. “For him, they were a time capsule, a transport to his childhood.”